


Hungover and Not Exactly Fine

by Jenny_Starseed



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hangover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:39:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny_Starseed/pseuds/Jenny_Starseed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas doesn't like to admit weakness.  In this instance, it would be foolish to try.  Especially when he wakes up hungover with a concerned Captain hovering over him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungover and Not Exactly Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a CP prompt: http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/3282.html?thread=3648466#cmt3648466. My first attempt at Douglas!angst. 
> 
> None of the characters are mine.

Martin handed Douglas a glass of water. Concern was etched in Martin’s expression. Douglas, bleary eyed and weary, took the water and downed the paracetamol pill that Martin handed to him. Drink had not been kind to Douglas. It was 1pm in Martin’s flat and Douglas had just woken up in Martin’s very small bed. His shoes were off and there was a nasty taste in Douglas’s mouth. Douglas was too busy keeping his pride intact to get around to asking Martin how he ended up in Martin’s bed. 

Last night was very fuzzy and indistinct. Which could only mean one thing: Douglas got pissing drunk last night for the first time in years. In over a decade. Douglas was trying very hard to stomp down the shame and humiliation of it. Humiliation because Martin had likely witnessed whatever drunken mess Douglas had gotten himself into. He didn’t even remember seeing Martin at the bar last night. Was he that drunk? 

Never mind, the important thing was that Douglas needed to get a bit of alone time to pull himself together. A tricky thing since he could not kick Martin out of his very tiny flat. And Douglas didn’t feel like he was up to figuring out the logistics of how to get home when he had a massive headache. He was feeling quite sick right now. There was a reason why he quit drinking all those years ago. He was no longer twenty. His body could not handle this abuse anymore. 

“Douglas? Are you alright?” asked Martin. 

“Just give me a moment,” murmured Douglas. 

“I can get you something to eat. Or are you too nauseous to eat anything?”

Douglas set aside the glass of water and lay back down on the bed. It was ridiculous, it wasn’t his bed and he didn’t have any right to curl up and away from Martin. But he did so anyways. 

“Just give a moment, Martin,” Douglas repeated with a bit more force. 

Douglas didn’t know if he felt relieved or ashamed when Martin said alright, left and closed the door behind him. Douglas didn’t know how long he laid there before deciding it was ridiculous to invade someone’s room like this. He got up and looked around the very small bedroom. It was almost claustrophobic in its size. It was very neat and sparse. Blue walls, a small dresser drawer and a comfortable but cramped bed with a small beside table that had a few books on it. Douglas gingerly picked one up: 10 Steps to Overcome Anxiety. He peered over to the next book on the table. It was a biography on the Wright Brothers. How very Martin. 

There was a knock on the door. Douglas sat up. 

“Come in,” said Douglas. Now he was truly feeling foolish.

Martin appeared at the door with a small bowl of chicken broth and some toast. “I’m sorry. This was all I had in the house. I haven’t had the time to go shopping this morning.” 

Now Douglas felt even more left footed. He felt almost bad for teasing Martin so much now. Almost. It was easy to forget how unfailingly kind Martin could be when he was irritating most of the time. Martin removed the books and set the food on the bedside table.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to,” said Martin.

“How did you find me?” asked Douglas. Oh hell, he really didn’t want to know. 

“I was out with Martin. You remember Martin, the actor?”

Douglas smirked. “You mean paramount Martin?” 

“Anyway!” continued Martin with annoyance. “We had just seen a late film and we decided to have a pint. We found you and...uh, well, me and Martin took you back to my flat. I’m sorry, I didn’t know where you parked your car and we didn’t think it was wise for you to drive, so um, we called a cab and brought you here.”

“Is that all?” asked Douglas. 

Martin frowned. “What exactly do you want me say?” 

“Nothing. It’s just interesting that you’re using so much tact. I would have thought it would have given you a bit of second hand glee to see me so...”

“Pissed? Foolish? Out of your mind?” offered Martin.

“Yes.”

Martin sighed and handed Douglas the bowl of broth. Douglas took it reluctantly and sipped it. It gave him something to do while he figured out a way to leave Martin’s flat with his pride intact. That meant avoiding any of Martin’s questions. But Douglas was curious as to what Martin heard and saw of Douglas’s drunken ramblings. 

“Is there anything you want to talk about, Douglas?” asked Martin kindly but with uncertainty. He sat on the bed, awkward concern clear on his face. “I mean, I know we’re just colleagues...but, I...um, would like to think...I want you to know that I will listen.”

“How much did you hear of my drunken rant?”

Martin fidgeted with his hands. “Right. I see. I won’t breathe a word to anyone if you don’t want me to.”

“Martin, what did I say?”

“Oh, a lot of things,” Martin answered vaguely. 

“Martin...”

“What does it matter? I already said I won’t say a word!”

“Yes, hence the possibility of blackmail.”

“You think I would blackmail you over cheese because I overheard your very vocal complaints?” sputtered Martin. His face was red with indignation. “That’s low, even for you. I’m not THAT petty.”

Douglas almost felt bad for insinuating it. But Douglas was not in the most charitable mood right now. He liked to keep his secrets close to him. How else would his armour work if he had everyone knowing his stupid business? But still, he was being an arse when Martin was being so kind. A real bastard would have withheld the painkillers from him this morning. 

“What did I say?” asked Douglas in a small voice. 

Martin averted his eyes and made a vague gesture with his hands. “Oh, you know...Helena and some things about your daughter—“

“And what a terrible father I am?” offered Douglas.

Martin frowned. “That’s a bit harsh, Douglas.” 

“Harsh, but true,” corrected Douglas. “I’m an absentee father, Martin. She has taken her mother’s opinion of me. And she’s taken up my bad habits at the age of sixteen.”

“Wait, I thought she was eight.”

“That was Elizabeth. I’m talking about my middle daughter, Katherine. Or Katz as she likes to be called,” said Douglas with obvious distaste. “It’s painful to have that name pass my lips. What is wrong with Katherine? It’s a perfectly dignified and lady-like name. Unlike Katz, a name for a drunken tart who cannot spell properly.”

“You didn’t actually say that to her, did you?”

“What do you think?”

Martin’s eyes widened. “Oh god, you did.”

“Exactly,” said Douglas. “Katherine is...precocious. A bit too much so. I naturally blamed her mother. She had the nerve to blame me for her stupidity taking up with a boy named...Deke Wilson. What kind of girl confesses to her father that this hormonal idiot...Deke has certain talents he demonstrates on my daughter while intoxicated. She told me this with such spiteful glee too. Katherine was always a bit starved for my attention. Well, she got my attention alright.” 

“What did you do?”

“There was a bit undignified shouting and name-calling followed by angry tears on her end and the bottom of the bottle on my end. And viola! I end up at Chez Crieff for the night without a memory of what happened last night.”

Martin scrunched up his face in dismay. “Oh. But that’s not what really what happened.”

“Oh?” Damn. His misdirection skills were not very good when he was hungover. Was there some detail he missed? 

“Yes,” said Martin. He was using his prissy voice when he was glad to be correct about something. “You forgot that last night, we had just come home from a four hour cargo flight. Believe me, I would have remembered such a phone call. The one you got last night at the porta-cabin was short and you barely said a word.”

Douglas bristled. “How do you know that that phone call was the reason I was drinking last night? For all you know, I could have been talking to my dry cleaner.” 

“Because you had a funny look on your face,” said Martin. “It was the same face I had when I failed my instruments test for the second time.”

The broth was suddenly too salty and sickening. Douglas put the bowl beside Martin’s books and ignored the toast. 

“Why are you asking if you already know?” asked Douglas defensively.

“I suspect, but I don’t really know Douglas,” Martin said peevishly. “And anyway! This isn’t one of our flight deck games. I’m not asking to be nosey. Is it that hard to believe that I’m asking because I’m worried? I did think, well...never mind.”

Douglas’s eyes narrowed. “What Martin? What did you think?”

Martin deflated a bit and his voice went soft. “Well...um, that I was your friend. And that you would trust me enough that I wouldn’t use your personal problems against you. I never told anyone about what happened when I visited your home and met Helena last year.”

Douglas didn’t want to talk about this. “Martin...” 

“And there’s nothing to be ashamed of! People get divorced all the time. I certainly don’t think any less of you because you got your heart broken. I know you adored her...she was a very poised woman, I can see why you wanted to get her that brown sauce.” 

Martin regained that prissy confidence and lost his nervousness when he knew he was right. It was one of the most endearing and annoying things about Martin. There was a bit of an awkward pause before Martin continued.

“And I don’t see why you should take all the blame,” said Martin primly, his voice full of judgement and indignation on Douglas’s behalf. “She was the one who had that affair with the Tai Chi teacher.”

It was true. Martin didn’t say a thing about Helena. Only Martin knew something was off about that phone call. Carolyn and Arthur took him at his word that it was his dry cleaner ruining his expensive suit that made him upset. Douglas looked down at his hands, feeling guilty for his defensive attitude. 

“That’s very kind of you to say Martin.”

Martin got up and awkwardly patted Douglas on his back until he felt foolish. 

“I think it’s gone a bit cold. I can microwave it again for you if you like,” offered Martin, taking the toast and broth away. 

Martin was about to leave the room when Douglas called his name. He turned around and found Douglas looking at his socked feet. He raised his head to stare at the blank wall in front of him, refusing to look at Martin. 

“I've become so very good at pretending that I'm fine, I think I've forgotten how to admit that I'm not."

The statement hung in the air. Douglas didn’t know why he said it. He wasn’t in the habit of confessing weakness. But it felt right to admit it, if more to himself than to Martin.

Martin seemed to understand. “I’m here if you ever want to...to um, admit something. That is, if you want to. I wouldn’t mind...that is, you have my mobile number.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, captain,” said Douglas. 

Martin smiled warmly. “Good. You can use the bathroom if you want to clean up a bit. It’s not very big—“

“It will do, Martin,” assured Douglas.

“When you’re ready, I can give you a ride to the pub so you can pick up your car. Can you drive?”

“I think I will be alright,” answered Douglas.

“Good. Give me a shout when you’re ready to leave,” said Martin. 

“And Martin?”

“Yes Douglas?”

Douglas sat up straighter. “You can have the first crack at the cheese tray for the rest of this week.”


End file.
